Foldermort and his (apparently) Evil Green Minions
by ex-LongLongHair
Summary: Hi again! It's about Foldermort. Yes, not Voldemort but Foldermort. Have you ever had problems with your folder/ring binder? Like it jumping up and biting you on the nose? Perhaps this fic is for you, then. Please R/R
1. Default Chapter Title

A/N: Hello there everyone! The winner of my first flame comp is....Hermione19 (Only person who wrote a nice, long, flame!) with... THAT SUCKED!!! First of all there is no way in BEEP that Harry's face could greenish yellowish bluish pinkish purplish reddish AND   
WHITE AT THE SAME TIME!!!! Voldemort does NOT know Darth Vader!!!!! And how the BEEP are we supposed to know what happens in the Witch   
Burning scene from Monty Python? I HAVE NOT READ MONDY PYTHON!!! Besides all these nitpicking little comments, it had NO BEEPING PLOT   
and made NO BEEPING SENSE WHATSOEVER!!! And whoo the BEEP ASKS for flames?!? You must be some kind of a BEEPing idiot!!! You just want   
more attention!!! I am sick and tired of those BEEPing people who just want more BEEPing attention!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!   
In any case, I'm not a weirdo, I just wanted to see how creative you guys could get. ::looks sad:: Not many people entered, however. Oh well. Here's something that's not quite finished...

Foldermort and his (Apparently) Evil Green Minions

Harry was walking down one of the many corridors at Hogwarts when his folder (ring binder) started making jumpy movements, opening and closing itself and clicking the rings.   
"Stop that, you stupid thing." He said absentmindedly and shut it.   
"What's that?" Ron asked, hearing Harry's little conversation with his folder.   
"Oh, I was just telling my folder to shut up. It's playing up, you know." Harry said.   
"Your folder?" Ron yelped, jumping away from Harry.   
"Yes, my folder. What's the matter with that?" Harry said, still not realising the seriousness of the situation.

"THINK, Harry. Your folder is alive and all you can say is 'What's the matter with that?' You must be out of your mind!" Ron said, keeping a distance between them.   
"It's only a folder, Ron. Not as bad as those books we had to get for Care of Magical Creatures." Harry said patiently, not aware that his folder had now jumped of his arms and was clacking to all the other folders around.   
"But Harry," Ron said, pointing to the group of folders rapidly growing around Harry, "They're alive!"   
"I don't see why not." Harry said calmly, "They, after all, have every right to live just as we do." He patted a folder which had just jumped into his arms.   
"Don't be stupid!" Ron shouted, "Don't you know that folders were once part of You-Know-Who's great plan to rid the world of muggles and mudbloods?"   
"Oh, really. I would have thought better of Voldemort. So lowly to use folders." Harry shrugged, and walked on to his next class.   
Ron, still trying to keep a distance from Harry and the folders, followed cautiously. On the way, though, all the folders went back to whence they came, and Ron breathed easilier for the time being.

***

"Hey, you two!" Hermione called out as she slid down the bannister to catch up with Harry and Ron, "Wait for me!". Harry and Ron looked at each other and walked on, as it was time for lunch and they were hungry.   
"I can't help it if she wants to give me extension work!" Hermione shouted as she landed at the bottom of the staircase and started to give chase to the two boys.   
"Finally." Hermione said, panting as she caught up with them, "Now, I have to show you something." She said as she took out her folder and flicked through it to find the right page. What she didn't notice was that her folder was actually moving of its own accord.   
"Uh, Hermione, I don't think that's such a goo—" Ron said as her folder jumped out of her hands and bit him on the nose.

"Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry!" Hermione said as Harry's folder popped out from under his arm and started calling for all the other folders again.   
"I don't think that apologies really matter at a time like this, slime." Draco said as he strolled in, a number of green folders following.   
"What's it to you? You probably don't even know how to make one!" Hermione said as she fended off increasing folders snapping at her ankles.   
"Ooh. I'm hurt. Ah! Ah! You got me right in the heart! Run away! Run away!" Draco said in a high-pitched voice which was not exactly false, and made mincing movements around the trio, now brandishing their wands and shooting spells at the folders.   
A scraping noise came from one of the doorways. "I see you've directed them well. I never expected you to get them this fast, Draco." A deep voice issued from said doorway.   
"I aim to please, Foldermort." Draco said as he bowed. The folders stopped attacking Harry, Ron and Hermione as Foldermort made a slight motion with his right hand.   
"Why are you wearing such gaudy colours?" Foldermort said to the folders clustered around him. They made some clacking noises.

"What do you mean, the students covered you with this-this-this filth?" Foldermort spat in distaste as he pulled some holographic pink covering off a cowering folder.   
"You should know better than to appear in front of your master like this." Draco chastised from some unknown position, close enough to be heard clearly, however.   
"Don't tell my folders how to behave!" Foldermort boomed, "Although I'd say you're quite right." He added as an afterthought.   
"Whatever you are, you aren't wanted here!" Harry snarled, finding his voice after watching the scene with amazement.   
"Who are you to tell me what to do?" Foldermort shouted, cracking his staff on the stone floor.   
"I'm Harry Potter, son of James Potter and heir to nothing in particular." Harry said, wondering where the words had come from.   
"Oh, it's you, is it?" Foldermort said with an expression on his face that looked as though he had just tasted off milk.   
"Yeah. It's me." Harry stuck his hands on his hips and tried to look as menacing as he could. After a few seconds, he realised that however menacing he may look in tight jeans, a black leather jacket and some chains, it just wasn't the same with some flimsy Hogwarts robes on. So he whispered a few words as he waved his wand over himself, and changed into something more suitable. "Ron, Hermione, do the same." He said as he walked up to Foldermort.   
Ron basically changed into the same kind of stuff as Harry was wearing, but Hermione-whoa! She changed into some tight black PVC pants and halter neck top, and with the little mask and long red fingernails, ended up looking like a cross between Catwoman and transvestite Zorro.

"Nice girl you've got there, Harry." Foldermort said, looking over Hermione.   
"Don't you dare!" Hermione said as she flew towards him in a flurry of hair and fingernails.   
"This really isn't necessary, Herm-" Foldermort ground out as she knocked him over and proceeded to strangle him.   
"Hermione, it's lunch time and the teachers will be around any minute now, so don't you?…" Ron said, trailing off when Harry joined in the fray. "What the heck, might as well." Ron said as he jumped on top of the lot of them, fighting off the folders who had now come back into action.   
Meanwhile, Draco watched from his perch in the rafters, enjoying the spot of entertainment Foldermort had brought with him.

***

Harry, Hermione and Ron were in the Gryffindor common room, talking about their little adventure with Foldermort and his green minions. They had taken the liberty of skipping Potions.   
"So what exactly happened when you tackled Foldermort?" Harry asked Hermione, still stalking about furiously in her Zorrowoman costume.   
"I don't know! He just sort of disappeared once I closed off his windpipe." Hermione said, digging holes in the cork flooring with her stilettos.   
"More like turned into a folder." Ron said gloomily, nursing a small glass of butterbeer with something stronger added to it and a red nose.   
"Actually, now that you mention it." Hermione said as she paused mid-stalk and tapped her chin thoughtfully with a blood red fingernail, "Yes. He did turn into a folder. I wonder why?"   
"Perhaps because he was called Foldermort." Harry said exasperatedly.   
"Yes, yes. I know the connection. It's just that Foldermort and Draco Malfoy. What's with that?" Hermione resumed her pacing.   
"You'll wear a track in the carpet. Stop it, Hermione." Ron said from his fireside chair.   
"The carpet doesn't matter. Foldermort does." Hermione retorted.   
"Who knows? Perhaps this is all a hallucination brought on by not eating lunch." Harry said as his stomach grumbled.   
"Perhaps. How 'bout some choccie frogs?" Ron said, brightening.   
"I'm in." was Hermione's reply, and Harry just nodded.

"Mmm. First food I've had since morning tea." Ron said as he bit into a chocolate frog.   
"Morning tea? Since when did we get morning tea?" Harry said.   
"Uh, I sneaked it out of breakfast and ate between classes." Ron said sheepishly.   
"Now why didn't I think of that?" Hermione said through a mouthful of chocolate.   
They continued eating in peace, not caring about the classes they missed or what was going to happen because of their truancy.

***

"What exactly are you doing?" Snape's voice echoed around the high ceilings. Draco, still half asleep, paid no attention to it. "Draco, I demand you to tell me what you are doing asleep in the rafters." Snape asked again.   
"What?" Draco said sleepily. He rolled over, a big mistake. "Ahh!" he screamed as he fell off the beam he was previously lying on, and onto the cold, hard, floor. A sickening crunch could be heard as he touched down.   
"You Malfoys will never learn, will you?" McGonagall said, walking in as she heard the noise.   
"Learn what?" Draco said as he tried to sit up, but couldn't, on account of quite a few broken bones. He paled significantly from the pain, although he was already chalk white.   
"Your father did exactly the same thing when he was here." McGonagall replied, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.   
"To get back to the point, what were you doing up there the whole afternoon?" Snape said impatiently.   
"The whole afternoon?" Draco said slowly.   
"Yes. You missed potions." Snape told Draco.   
"What time is it now?" Draco frantically looked around for his watch, and saw that it was still attached to his wrist, but his wrist was some way away from where it was supposed to be.   
"That is of no consequence. What were you doing up there?" McGonagall said sharply, losing all of her former humour.   
"I was watching Potter, Weasley and Granger fighting…" Draco trailed off as he fainted.   
"Well, Severus. We shall have to get to the bottom of this one." McGonagall said, faintly amused. "Let's take him up to the infirmary first."   
So Snape and McGonagall took the indisposed Draco up to the infirmary, to be fixed up by Madam Pomfrey.   


A/N: So? Shall I finish this or leave you hanging? I think I shall leave you hanging. For a while at least (I'm going on holiday and I won't have acess to computers. For a whole month. ACK!) But I will be back sometime in January. This isn't my last fic for this year, though. :-) Please Review, so I can continue.


	2. Foldermort strikes back (see sum. 4 more...

A/N: Hi there! This is most of the rest of Foldermort. There should be a conclusion coming before I go, otherwise you'll have to wait till January!   
Have fun, please R/R.   
  


"Oh God. My digestion's really stuffed up." Hermione moaned as she sat down to dinner.   
"What?" Ron said as he stuffed a potato into his mouth.   
"Have you ever eaten fake fingernails for afternoon tea before?" she asked him as she got her dinner.   
"Oh. I thought you had gotten rid of them." Harry was surprised.   
"Yes, I did, but not before biting half of them off." Hermione said before putting a sachet of white powder into a glass of water and downing it.   
"Whatever." The boys said, and the meal continued, then finished, then most people did their homework, or at lest some of it, then went to bed. A certain group of human beings, and another group of entities masquerading as folders, were still awake, however.

***

"Well my pretties, who shall we wreak havoc on tonight?" Foldermort stroked one of the folders, a red one with little hearts drawn on the cover, with his long, thin, papery fingers. The folders clacked among themselves for a while, then a green plastic folder with an eight-pointed star in silver on the front moved out from the masses.   
"We have decided to annoy the boy who had first brought to attention that you, great sir, was well and alive, although greatly weakened." It said. (we now have a babel fish-translating straight to you!)   
Foldermort's eyes widened in surprise. "Draco Malfoy?"   
"Yes, Draco Malfoy, if that is what you call him." Another folder spoke up, barely containing its laughter. (It was a cardboardy one with a fake marble print on the outside) "Perhaps we could bite him on th-"   
"You will do no such thing!" Foldermort half shouted, thumping his fist on the arm of the chair he was sitting in, just missing a plastic coated black folder.   
"But why? He's mean, he wears too much cologne, he talks and snores in his sleep and he isn't strong enough to carry two of us." A leopard print one whined.   
"It doesn't matter. All you need to do is to get to Harry Potter before my kind cousin does." Foldermort breathed in sharply, "That Potter boy will be glad to be killed by me and not Voldemort, he's just an imitation. I am the real evil being." He chuckled softly.   
"How desolate dear cousin Voldie will be when he hears of my victory. Now go away, I want to think." Foldermort waved his little cohorts away, and settled back into his chair-boy those metal spikes were getting annoying-to think about Voldemort and everything dearest Voldie had stolen from him.

First there was the name. Voldemort, a thinly veiled corruption of Foldermort. And then there was the whole torture and kill method. Foldermort had basically brought the use of Avada Kedavra, Impero and Crucio back into fashion, after many years of training from his mentor, Bouldermort. This was merely years before Voldemort was his strongest. Foldermort, on the other hand, had been biding his time for many years before finally collecting enough followers to finally launch an attack on the world. Not only Muggles, Mudbloods and Half-bloods, but anyone who didn't feel like following him. Voldemort couldn't even do that. Not at that time, anyway. Foldermort had taught him well, and now dear Voldie was almost, just almost as cold blooded as himself. He still couldn't kill the Potter boy, though. That was something neither of them managed to do. All throughout the centuries, trying to trace the descendants of the infamous house of Gryffindor, killing many powerful wizards, but not all of them. Dumbledore, for instance. He wasn't a direct relation, but still close enough to wield some great power. But Potter, oh, Potter, he was good. At the age of one he managed to defeat the "dark Lord" of the time, Voldemort. And then again at ages 11, 12, 13 and almost nearly at 14. The problem with the wands, thankfully, saved that from happening. Hopefully this time, Voldemort would take more precautions, and emerge triumphant. But no, he would not. It is time for a new dark Lord. Perhaps Britneymort. Or Mandymort. No, Mandymort just doesn't have that same ring. What about Pottermort? Potter mightn't want to turn to the dark side, however tempting a large amount of Galleons and a large portion of the world is. Maybe Pencilmort. Take any evil looking pencil and enliven it a little. No, that wouldn't work.

"Oh well." Foldermort sighed, "Perhaps I will return to power, and rule. Voldemort can go eat my shorts."   
"And you have shorts?" a thin, reedy voice said from behind his chair. Foldermort felt icy cold hands on his shoulders, and stiffened immediately.   
"Well…" Foldermort paused.   
"You really don't know me that well, do you?" Voldemort sneered, "All those years of tutoring me to be your successor, and yet you never knew the real me. I was an orphan, Foldermort, I wasn't some pampered little rich kid who could do whatever he liked." Voldemort paused to draw in a deep breath. "Unlike some people I know. The Malfoys, for instance. The Potter boy. No, not Harry." He said as he saw Foldermort's expression, "James Potter was the one I envied. And his friends. Especially Lily. You remember her, don't you?" Voldemort swung around and stared Foldermort, his foul breath on Foldermort's face. Foldermort winced.   
"Yes, I remember Lily. She should have died as soon as she came out of the womb." Foldermort said coldly.   
"Oh really. Well, she was smart enough. I probably would have gotten her with child, just so us dark Lords would rule forever." Voldemort smiled bitterly at the thought of James and Lily. "But no, she had to go off with James Potter, didn't she? She didn't go for me, the older man with the money, but the kid with the messy black hair and the glasses." Voldemort smashed his fist through the table.   
"Calm down, Voldemort. It's nothing to get offended about. Anyway, she was a mudblood. What about that nice Slytherin girl you dated in sixth grade? She had brains enough and was fairly pretty." Foldermort said soothingly.   
"Fairly pretty? She had a face like a horse!" Voldemort exploded. "I've always wanted to have a nice, loving, warm family and a welcoming house to go home to in the holidays. But no, I had to stay in that dump of an orphanage. I would've burned the place if you hadn't said not to. Nobody loves me! Nobody did! Even all my so called loyal Deatheaters were probably whispering amongst themselves about me! I've had enough this torment, this farce, this attempt to get rid of the Potter boy, or turn him over to the dark side! I've never heard so much bull-shit in my life! All I wanted to do was to be loved by one and all!" Voldemort sobbed, then straightened and said softly but surely, "I've had enough of your sweet talk! I, Voldemort, formally challenge you, Foldermort, to a duel! A duel to the death!"

Foldermort shrugged. "Whatever." He said, "I don't mind."   
"Right! Tomorrow afternoon on the Quidditch pitch in front of the whole Hogwarts compliment!" Voldemort said forcefully, then slowly vanished, waving goodbye.

"I hate to tell this to you, my boy, but this is going to be a pointless fight." Foldermort said after the dissipating figure.

***

"Go Harry!" Hermione and Ron yelled from the stands as Harry whizzed around the Quidditch pitch, showing off his tricks.   
"Bloody Gryffindors." Draco muttered as he lay on a stretcher between them. "Of all the students at Hogwarts, I had to get these two as my little helpers for today." He tried rolling over, but binding charms stopped him, so he couldn't change his position. Not that it mattered, he was in nearly a full body cast. Possibly one of the few bones that he didn't break was his spine, and beneath the heavy plaster he was itching like hell in the hot sun.   
"Hmm. It turns out that white doesn't reflect heat as much as it is said to." Hermione said after sticking a thermometer inside one of the ventilation holes in Draco's plaster "suit".   
"Perhaps that's because he's wearing Hogwarts robes over them. Maybe we should take them off and test it then" Ron suggested with a smile on his face.   
"Yes, let's!" the Gryffindors chorused.   
"All right then, let's do it!" Hermione crowed, and started ripping off Draco's robes.   
"Where's the teachers when you need them." Draco rolled his eyes and submitted, for there was nothing else to do.   
To the Gryffindors' dismay, they found Draco wearing yet another layer of clothing under the robes-heavy duty jeans and a checked flannel shirt.   
"Madam Pomfrey didn't want me to catch a cold." He said with a shrug that no one could see.   
"Well, this time, she's definitely wrong!" Ron said before starting on the shirt.   
"Yeah!" Hermione shouted before unzipping his jeans.   
Draco squirmed inside his cast, although he found Ron unbuttoning his shirt unsettling, he found Hermione working on his jeans even weirder.   
"Uh, guys, you two are my best friends." Draco said, panicking.   
"What about us, then?" Crabbe and Goyled loomed behind them all, casting a shadow on Draco, Ron and Hermione.

A humongous boom reverberated through the stands.   
"Stars, what was that?" Hermione cried, Draco's clothing forgotten. Two figures, clothed in a black so dark it almost wasn't there, with only their faces showing appeared on the grassy surface of the pitch. They stood about twenty metres (approx. 60 ft) apart, circling each other, yelling insults and each trying to find a window in which to strike.

"I will get you, Foldermort, and you will pay for the injustices done to me!" someone who looked like Voldemort said to someone who looked like an older version of Voldemort.   
"Hey, that's the guy we fought yesterday!" Ron yelled, "let's get him!" he motioned to Harry to start the attack. Harry, however, just shook his head. "Watch." He mouthed, "I think I know what they'll do." Harry flew down, hovering over the real Voldemort's shoulder.   
"Voldemort! Did you know that Harry Potter is hovering above your left shoulder?" Foldermort said, catching Harry's frantic signalling.   
"What? Where? Did you say Harry Potter?" Voldemort said, momentarily distracted.   
"Averdian Kedavrail!!" Foldermort shouted, catching Voldemort full on in the chest. Voldemort dropped dead immediately.

"Thanks, whoever you are." Harry flew up to Foldermort and clapped him on the shoulder, "you should get some kind of award for killing Voldemort." Foldermort looked up at him.   
"Ah, but I am something much worse than Voldemort. I am Foldermort, as I'm sure I told you yesterday. I will have to kill you sometime, but for now, let's celebrate the death of Voldemort!" Foldermort raised his wand and shot fireworks into the air.   
Dumbledore, having realised who the "hero" was, thought about taking him down right here, but decided that since he had killed Voldemort, he deserved a pardon. At least for a day.   
"Drinks all round on me!" Foldermort shouted, dragging a huge sack of Galleons out of his cloak. "Butterbeer for all!"

Everyone drank and was merry, but a few select people were holding a meeting on how to rid the world of Foldermort, for, as the stories do tell, Foldermort was much worse than Voldemort, any day.   
  


A/N: Well? Can I just add that if you don't review, I'll have to feed you to the knights who say Ni! (That's what my science teacher said, anyway. Not about fanfic, but about something about coconuts not being dispersed by the wind or biotic something or rather. I said something about swallows, and you see what I'm getting at...) So don't click on the back button, do the right thing and review it!

PS: Sorry to whoever first thought of Britneymort, I admire your fanfic greatly. Britneymort belongs to them, not me, and I will delete "her" if you want from this, if you really want me to...


	3. F, V and R: 3 generations of evil

A/N: This is the last part of "Foldermort and his (Apparently) Evil Green Minions." Although the title and subject of the story has changed numerous times, and the fact that it's not quite as funny as I meant it to be, I finally managed to finish something that's longer than short. Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please R/R.

Foldermort, Voldemort and Rowlingmort: 3 Generations of Evil

"Harry, do you know who Foldermort is?" Dumbledore asked Harry as soon as the meeting was formally adjourned.   
"No, and I don't think I want to know, either." Harry replied with conviction.   
"You'll have to learn the truth, sooner or later, and now is as good a time as any." McGonagall spoke from behind them.   
"All right then." Harry sighed.   
"Foldermort was, well, actually, is, the dark lord that is ruling now that Voldemort has gone. He taught Voldemort in the ways of evil, and fashioned Voldemort into his successor. Voldemort was probably one of the most powerful ones, but there have been many over the ages. Each wreaked havoc on the world-Muggle and wizarding, but recently they have become more specific in who they hit." Dumbledore explained.   
"I see…So they're looking for another one now?" Harry asked.   
"Most likely. Few can be an evil lord, let alone the ruling one, and they are extremely hard to find." Dumbledore sighed. "You may be one they sought after."   
"What am I supposed to do then?" Harry said, bewildered by the news that he could become one of them.   
"Never give in to the dark side." Dumbledore said abruptly as he got up. "Come now, we must prepare Voldemort for burial. Evil lord he may have been, there is a kind soul in there somewhere." He exited the room, and made his way towards the Quidditch pitch where Voldemort was still lying on the grass.

***

They laid out Voldemort in a lovely black varnished treated pine coffin, complete with stiff cushions, in a clean black robe, with all the usual flowers and stuff. He was put in the Not So Great Hall, so everyone could pay their respects to him.

One fine day, when Hermione had finally finished her homework, which had altogether too much detail in it, Harry, Hermione and Ron all paid a visit to Voldemort in his wooden suit. When they got there, they saw Draco Malfoy and Dumbledore, both deep in thought, on opposite sides of the coffin. Draco was propped up against a chair, as he was still in his full body cast. He had managed to convince Madam Pomfrey that he didn't need anymore help, just his wand and his left hand free.

"Oh. It's you." Draco looked up when they inched in quietly.   
"Yes." Ron said, puffing up his chest and trying to look important, "It's us."   
"Hello Harry, Ron, Hermione." Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling, "Come to see Voldemort?"   
"Yes. We thought we might. I'll finally get a proper look at him." Harry joked, "He's always on the run, and between fighting off his blows and exchanging a few words with him, I never got the chance to have a nice, long stare."   
"Well, I'll leave you to it, then." Dumbledore ambled out, whistling tunelessly.

"So this is how he looked like." Hermione exhaled, whistling, "pretty cute for a what—um, sixty-eight year old?"   
Voldemort, having returned to his "human" form, had black hair, greying at the temples, and relatively smooth skin. His features were well spaced, and…he had Darth Maul contact lenses?   
"These are the best sheets I've slept in for a long time." Voldemort said as he sat up in his coffin, flashing a brilliant white smile at them all.

"You're alive?" Ron asked, slightly miffed, "I thought Foldermort had killed you."   
"Oh no, not at all. You see, he didn't use the Avada Kedavra curse on me, he used a variation of it, to put me into a sort of suspended animation, although I could get out of it whenever I wanted to. I was just waiting for you lot to come along." Voldemort smiled again.

"So…can you do this on yourself?" Hermione asked curiously.   
"Of course." Voldemort said as he swept by, looking behind the tapestries and under the tables for something. "Have you seen Foldermort around here?" he continued.   
"What's the spell?" Harry added.   
"Um, Averdian Kedavrail, I think." Voldemort continued, trying to pry the vent covers off, and tapping the wood panelling.   
"I wonder how useful it will be in Potions." Ron said.   
"I strongly suspect that Snape won't like it. He's a boy after my own heart." Voldemort said, opening a previously unseen trapdoor. "Nope. Not down there."   
"I don't see why you'd want to use it in Potions. Divination would be much better to pretend to kill yourself. Then Trelawney would think that something she's said has actually come true." Hermione said waspishly, "Come on, you guys. Voldemort has been walking around for five minutes and you haven't even killed him?"   
"You know, Harry, she's right." Draco said, trying to turn around to face them, "Why don't you just get rid of him here and now?"   
"Because he has something better to do." Foldermort said from the doorway, "He wants Voldemort to kill me first, or even better, we kill each other. Voldemort and I, I mean." He added quickly after seeing Harry's venomous look.

"Your time has past, Foldermort. You are not as strong as you used to be." Voldemort said, walking quickly towards Foldermort.   
"The same applies for you." Foldermort replied easily, "We need a new apprentice."   
"Not we, I!" snarled Voldemort, "I should have finished you off when I came into power!" he was now in the room, the two of them on either ends of the coffin.   
"You know none of us ever die." Foldermort said.   
"Yeah, well, you know." Voldemort made a little motion with his hands, "Pfft."   
"Precisely." Dumbledore said, appearing in the doorway. "Pfft." He raised his arms, and cleaved Foldermort's head from its rightful resting-place on Foldermort's shoulders. As he did so, Foldermort crumbled into a pile of dust on the floor.   
"Ugh. I hate it when really evil people die inside buildings. Leaves an awful lot of cleaning for us." Filch crawled in on his hands and knees, wielding a dustpan.

"Thank you, Dumbledore. I always hate killing the ones I adore most." Voldemort said, "Now on to the problem of my successor." He paced around the room for several minutes, with everyone else watching intently. A few more people trickled in, wanting to watch the final showdown. Nobody paid attention to anything but Voldemort, and soon most of the school was in the Not So Great Hall, packed shoulder to shoulder, like sardines.   
"Get out!" Voldemort said, stopping for a moment, "I need room to pace!" he waved his hands at them, and some of the more timid students scurried away to more pleasant pursuits. Now there was a ten metre radius around Voldemort, and he paced away, looking at all the students and teachers from beneath his rather long and curly eyelashes. A minute passed. Then another minute passed. And then another minute passed, this one much quicker. Then a slow minute passed. And another slow minute passed. Then a completely different minute passed. And then another quick minute passed. Finally, Voldemort came to a stop in front of a little first year.   
"I choose you!" Voldemort pointed at the girl, and lightning crackled overhead. Voldemort stretched out both of his hands. "Your name will be-" he paused, and thunder rolled, "I'm sorry, what is your name?" he asked quietly. A titter went through the crowd.   
"Shut up!" he roared. "Your name, dear?" he asked the first year.   
"Uh, Joanne." The girl said quietly, "Joanne Rowling."   
"Your name shall now be Rowlingmort!" Voldemort thundered. "Long live Rowlingmort!" he lifted Joanne Rowling into the air and held her like a trophy.   
"Behold the new dark lord!" Voldemort shouted, "Praise her!"   
The Slytherins cheered, while the rest of Hogwarts was quiet. Soon Draco was the only one left cheering on Voldemort and Rowlingmort. He realised everyone was staring, turned red and stopped.   
Voldemort continued. "Our new motto: Orbis Non Suffit! Take this girl and make her the Dark Lord of all times!" Voldemort started kow-towing to a speck of dust on the ground. "Oh great almighty Lords of time long gone, make this girl your new vessel- One of despair, suffering and anger!" Then Voldemort realised he was making a spectacle of himself in front of the whole of Hogwarts. He stopped. "Oh. Ahem. Okay, you can go now." He let go of the girl, and stood in the middle of the room, not quite sure what to do.

Then the storm that had so quickly gathered abated again, and the sun shone brighter than it ever has before. Harry stepped out of the crowd, Godric Gryffindor's sword in hand.   
"I'm sorry, Voldemort, but I have to kill you now." He began to raise his sword, but ghosts of his mother and father appeared.   
"Not so quickly, son." James Potter said, "We want to have a go at him as well."   
Lily smiled. "Tie him up and stick him in the stocks."   
"Let's get him!" Ron shouted and rushed forward to tie Voldemort up, and start the torture. Many others, anxious to give a whack to Voldemort, also surged forward in a sea of frenzy. Harry stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Everything in the room stopped, including the seventh years making out in a sheltered alcove.   
"Okay everyone, take it slowly. One person at a time. Three hits only. Then you either go to the back of the line, or do your own thing away from Voldemort. Line starts here with Ron." Harry pointed to a spot not far from where he was standing. As soon as he had finished talking, things continued just as they did before. Draco and the rest of the Slytherins, however, were huddled in a corner.   
"I don't see what's so great about the whole stoning Voldemort to death thing." Draco said to Crabbe.   
"Perhaps it's because Voldemort's been such an idiot." Snape said from behind them.   
"What?" Draco said in disbelief.   
"Oh yes. Voldemort's my hero. I want to be just like him when I grow up." Harry said in a squeaky voice that sounded similar to Draco's own voice. "Ooh, Voldie, my hero!" he fluttered his eyelashes.   
"Shut up, Potter. You're not fluttering your eyelashes right. It's more like this." Draco started to demonstrate, but then realised where he was and who was there with him, and thought better of it. "Oh, and you can also see your eyelashes better if you tint them." He added.   
"Thanks for the tip, Malfoy." Harry said happily, as he turned to Ron, "Ron, pay up." Harry held out his hand.   
"But he didn't say he was a-" Ron protested.   
"Isn't the whole eyelash thing proof?" Harry said quietly.   
"Well…" Ron thought for a bit.   
"Okay then. Oy, Malfoy!" Harry yelled at Draco to get his attention.   
"What, Potter?" Draco said trying to sound menacing, "Need more beauty tips?"   
"Well, no, actually. You might want to have a nice little talk to Hermione about that. Anyway, getting back to the subject on hand," Harry said, drawing a breath, "Malfoy, do you use uh, you know?"   
Draco looked surprised. "Why Potter, I thought you would have known. Of course I don't peroxide my hair. Think of what it does! So harmful. Oh no, I use magic."   
"See?" Harry said triumphantly.   
"Fine then." Ron dug 2 Knuts out of his pocket and gave them to Harry.   
"Thanks." Harry said, "Now back to torturing Voldemort."

By this time the line had gone down considerably, and Harry, Ron and Hermione attacked Voldemort with vigour.

***

The chaos that ensued cannot be put into words. Let's just say that Voldemort died a humiliating death with lots of rotten tomatoes, eggs and cabbages-courtesy of Peeves. Lily and James had a good poke at Voldemort with some implements they had picked up, and Harry and Company also had fun. Rowlingmort still lives on today. You know who she is. Don't you?   


A/N: Yes, I know the ending's a little stupid, I'm suffering from End-of-year-itis. Please review anyway. Well, I'm off for some R&R now. (No, not that, Rest and Recreation. Or something like that.)

Disclaimer: Most of the characters portrayed in this work belong to J.K. Rowling. Foldermort and Rowlingmort sorta belong to the dark side, and themselves.


End file.
